Definition of Crazy
by TheFictionDreamer
Summary: Welcome to World Psychiatric Hospital, home of the insane and abnormal. Beyond these doors, there will only be lunetics, when Hetalia characters goes mentally ill. In the halls, where lunatics roam and insanity is the norm, your nightmares may be the only escape you have


**Disclaimer: **Don't owe hetalia characters.

The characters normal behavior/personalities have been _exaggerated_ to mental disorders.

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**Chapter 1.**

**Name: Arthur Kirkland**

**Case: Schizophrenia**

**Definition****: **Schizophrenia is a psychotic condition, marked by a general separation from reality. Symptoms may include disorganized thoughts, hallucinations, delusions and scattered movement. Many schizophrenics hear imaginary voices and may also experience visual hallucinations

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"You can't do this!" Arthur exclaimed, his voice wearing a heavy British accent. He clenched a hand around his expensive sweater-vest and felt his breathing quicken as the conversation proceeded. "I am Arthur Kirkland, a British gentleman, a Lord to be! I am not...insane. I am _NOT__!_" It wasn't his intention to yell the last part, but the situation was simply too bizarre for the green-eyed boy to comprehend. A scenario he had never thought he should face when he woke up this morning.

"Arthur, please!" came a weak call and the juvenile youth turned his head. His angry eyes soften in consideration when his orbs met those of equally green, but overflowing with miserable tears.

Arthur felt a pang when he heard his mother starting to weep in her chair, clumsily patting her eyes with a silken handkerchief. He glanced toward her, hoping to tell her with his eyes that he was _not_ crazy. She didn't seem to read him. His father swiftly walked to her side and put a hand on her shoulder, only adding fuel to the fire as she broke down entirely and hid her head in her hands.

The elderly man sitting in the front of Arthur in the dining room folded his hands professionally in his lap. He closed his eyes and took off his glasses before he spoke again. Arthur's friends and himself used to call him 'the Crazy Collector' but now it seemed that Arthur was one of the crazies he was collecting.

"We got several reports about your uncommon behaviour and I have come to bring you with me," he said in a calm voice and Arthur's eyes left his mother to glare daggers at the man.

"Your reports are misinterpreting," he stated fearlessly.

"The situation pains me Arthur, you seem like an intelligent child."

"Lord Arthur."

"Not yet, am I correct?"

Arthur's eyes hardened, but then his father's hand fell on his shoulder and instead they twisted in sadness, dropping to the floor.

"Arthur," his father's stern voice sounded. "Don't disgrace your family any further. Just go." The words hurt unbearably. Everybody thought he was a loony. Even his own family.

"Has this come out yet?" his mother's choked-up voice sounded.

"I don't believe so," his father responded slowly.

"It will be a scandal! We'll be the laughing matter of the whole town!"

"I am _not_ insane!" Arthur repeated for what seemed to be the millionth time. "Why won't you understand?" His mother sobbed loudly at this.

He looked at his family with bewildered eyes, but he didn't resist when the Collector placed a rough hand on his shoulder and pulled him out of his chair. It might be the last time he would sit in a chair like that, sown with golden treads of real gold in red silk. The thought pained him.

"You aren't being executed Arthur," the Collector told him with a firm pat on his shoulder, but Arthur only sent him a glare in response. He jumped slightly when he heard his mother's hysteria start again, but the Collector held his shoulder tight. "You're just going to go to a place that can help you. If you get better you might be back before you know you left." With those words the Collector pulled him toward the exit.

"Mother!" Arthur yelled, not even regarding his words, his eyes pinned to his mother's crying form, curled into his father's arms. "_Mother_!" he tried to squirm out of the man's hand, but despise being very bony and old, the Collector was incredibly strong.

"You will just earn more time like this, Arthur," the Collector said cold-heartedly, but a slight smile played on his lips as he did. Arthur gritted his teeth and the door closed behind them as they walked out in the courtyard. His head fell forward and his hands clenched in fists by his sides.

Arthur Kirkland was the son of a great lord, living in a wonderful country. He had pride and dignity. Even if his pride seemed in pieces at this point he wouldn't break under the pressure. He wouldn't let out a single tear in public even if it would kill him.

"Arthur, it will all be better if you believe in it," a firm voice sounded. The Englishman's eyes lifted immediately, showing an expression of pure misery as his green orbs met pale blue ones.

"How do you know?" he asked the creature floating in front of his face. The tiny fairy girl smiled at him, and her small form floated to sit on the shoulder that wasn't held by the Collector. Arthur smiled slightly at her as she sat.

"Have I ever lied to you, Arthur?" she asked him and put a teeny hand on his cheek. "Me and the others will always stay by your side in times like this, so don't be afraid."

"I am not afraid," Arthur told her. "I am just-"

That's when he realized that the Collectors eyes were staring directly at him, a slight smile playing on his lips.

But in contradiction Arthur's smile disappeared and a look of pure anger showed instead. "I am not—"

"Insane." The Collector ended his sentence and smiled maliciously. Arthur realized they had walked all the way to the road already and in front of him was the old wagon that he had seen around town so many times. Pitch black as night. The perfect image of what Death himself would be honoured to ride in Arthur's opinion.

But what was worse…

"Please," Arthur whispered breathlessly and stopped abruptly, almost falling on his face when the Collector pulled him along regardless. "Let me wear a hood, scarf, anything. I beg you." The young boy begged and let his fingers hold onto the Collectors arms to halt his swift walk.

People were gathering around the wagon to see whom the Crazy Collector was bringing with him this time. He couldn't see them yet, but he heard them clearly, coming down the street. Chatting happily as if they were about to see a great show. Arthur knew that he had used to be in that crowd, standing with his friends and wearing a smug smile as the crazy people were let into the wagon, often under screams and cries of help. They had made him laugh. He didn't laugh now.

"A hood?" the Collector laughed and pulled him harder. "Sorry child."

"B-but…" Arthur stuttered in despair, but when the crowd had approached fully he hurried to stumble to his feet. Loud murmurs and gasps were heard when Arthur approached. His proud back straightened immediately and his face twisted to expressionlessness, although he felt like he was breaking inside.

"Is that Lord Kirkland's son?" he heard being said in hushed voices.

"He was such a bright child."

"What a disgrace for the good family."

Arthur felt embarrassed, broken and hated. His eyes unwillingly twisted in sadness and the murmurs rose in volume. Tears had never threatened to spill as much as now. Not of sadness, but embarrassment.

"_Arthur_!" someone called, and his eyes moved to the voice as in a daze. It was one of his old friends, he seemed to have run here, probably to see the show, because his blonde hair was a mess and his blue eyes wild with surprise as he elbowed through the crowd.

"Alfred, please go home," he said and was surprised how broken his voice sounded. The American boy stood absolutely petrified when he had pushed through the crowd completely and just stared at the scenario that the two friends often had laughed at.

"What is happening? Who is the poor bastard today?" another voice broke in and Arthur winced as Francis, his greatest rival in power moved to the American's side. The French man's eyes went from amused to absolutely stunned in second, when he approached the happening. "What in the world."

Arthur almost choked. Almost.

Alfred's fists clenched and his blue eyes seemed filled with benevolence. Arthur hissed out a breath and turned away from them in shame. He was usually in charge of the American and as powerful as the French, seeing him like this was just…wrong.

"Please enter," the Collector mumbled as if bored by it all and opened the door for him.

Arthur stared inside the wagon. Everything was black in there too, just as expected. Without looking back he stepped inside. He held his proud face flat as he sat in there, closing his eyes to kill the noise around him. Only two voices he couldn't keep out.

"Arthur!" he heard his friends cry out, just before the door was slammed shut and cutting the volume to half the magnitude. He didn't look at them. He couldn't.

_BAM!_

His eyes flung to the window in shock. "_Arthur_!" the American banged his fists on the glass. Arthur's eyes were wide in surprise, but soon twisted into wretchedness. Soon he noticed Francis behind him. Their voices were faint because of the glass barrier between them, but Arthur could make out the French boy's words clearly.

"You will come back, you hear me Arthur!" Francis called.

"We're waiting for you, right here! For when you come back!" Alfred called, as the car began to roll out on the street. As it did Arthur's hands flung to the window, briefly placed over his friend's with only the glass separating them. His friend's immediately started running beside the wagon their eyes wide.

"I'll return," Arthur whispered. He wasn't sure if they heard him or not, but it was a promise. His friend's sent him faint smiles as they stumbled to a stop on the road. They clumsily staggered out of the road under loud swears from the vehicles they ran out in front. Arthur would probably have laughed if the situation had been different, but not even a smile reached his lips today and he just let his hand's rest on the cool glass, not moving before he couldn't see his two friends anymore.

He hadn't realized that tears were flowing down his cheeks and hurried to dry them off with his sleeve. He leaned back in his seat, and was actually glad that the wagon was so dark and black, because it made it easier to curl up in a corner and hide from the curious glances from the outside.

"Arthur," he heard the faint voices again. This time there were many, almost all of the creatures he had ever met. All in the wagon with him. They always came in his insecure moments when he needed company the most, and he thankfully listened to all their reassuring words, just curling up in the wagon.

The trip was too short. He wished he could have sat and listened to his friends for a while longer, but unfortunately the door soon opened and the Collector stood outside with an impatient expression.

"Move it Arthur," he said, not in a harsh tone, but Arthur still felt the improper speech like a stab in the back.

"It's okay, we're all in this together," his best friend, the flying green bunny told him. He swallowed and gave him a quick nod before walking out of the wagon, declining the Collectors offered hand.

"Welcome to your new home," the Collector told him and Arthur's eyes twisted in disdain.

"The loony Bin."

"It's refereed like that from some," the Collector said with a shrug and pulled Arthur along by the shoulder again. The blonde Brit clumsily stumbled after him, his eyes pinned to the big building in front of him, where he likely would spend a lot of time from now on.

"How long do I have to stay?" Arthur asked in a low, but controlled voice.

"Depends."

"Can I have visitors?"

"Depends."

"_Depends_? Not even my family?" Arthur glared at the man. Would he really not get to see his family if he didn't behave in this place? His teeth gritted in anger, but he kept it hidden.

"You have family?"

"Wha-?" the question surprised him so much that he forgot to look stoic. "What kind of question is that?" the Englishman demanded to know. "You saw them just a little while ago! My mother who cried, my father who comforted her. Just before we went outside to the crowd!"

The Collector eyed Arthur expressionlessly. "Arthur. There were no other people than us in that worn old building and... there were no people."

Arthur stared at him. "No people?" His eyes widened to double size and he opened and closed his mouth several times without finding the right words, his eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"Y-you mean..."

"There was _no_ _one_ there," the Collector told him, his voice softened slightly. Arthur glared at the ground, his pupils flickering slightly in shock by the information. He had always known that the fairies and bunnies were in his mind, but…his family, his house and his friends?

"T-that is rubbish! That is…complete bollocks!" He sputtered and his eyes kept flickering.

The Collector's hand tightened around the petrified teen's shoulder and pulled him along. "Come on kid."

"They can't be in my mind! Why would you..." Arthur stared at the Collector, but was too stunned to resist his hold and just staggered after him.

If what he said was true, how much had the Englishman been imagining? Were any of the people he knew real? Maybe there was no one waiting for him at all. Maybe he was nothing in reality. No lord. No friend. No nothing.

_"You will come back, you hear me Arthur!"_

_"We're waiting for you, right here! For when you come back."_

That's when the proud teen's composure fell and he collapsed in tears.

-Crazy-

**A/N: **Hey guys. Thanks for reading and please leave a review, it would make my day.

Oh, and please **remember** that the countries normal behavior have been **exaggerated** to the extent of them having a mental disorder, I am **NOT** trying to offend anyone with giving their country a mental disorder. XD

Please come with suggestions for future disorders and characters. I have already written the next chapter which will be out cute little Canadian Matthew and will actually take place in the mental hospital.

And thank you to Anonymous Void for betaing me.

PREVIEW OF NEXT CHAPTER:

He enjoyed being left alone most of the time, but it could also be kind of lonely. He hugged the bear closer and closed his eyes.

_Ka-chon! Bang!_

Matthew looked up as the rusty door was opened.


End file.
